Wrapping my fingers around the edge of the sink, I pull myself up, holding on until I’m mostly steady. Each step feels like a mile until I make it to the other door. But the knob only rattles when I try to turn it.
A dull thudding sound gets steadily louder. Shit. Someone’s coming.
I stumble back until I hit the far wall. My heart pounds so hard, I can barely breathe. My legs tremble. Fear and the after-effects of whatever they gave me combine until I’m sure I’m about to collapse again.
A key rasps in the lock, and the door swings open. The man who enters is tall and solid. Dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray shirt. The collar almost looks like it belongs to a priest, but there’s no telltale white boning in the center. Gray threads his black hair and full beard.
“Blessed day, Nova,” he says with a small smile. His voice is familiar. It terrifies me, despite the warmth in his tone.
A vague memory fights its way free from my addled mind.
Sweat. Stifling heat. Fear. And that one word.
“Drink!”
He’s the one who took me. Fuck. The way he’s looking at me is almost…reverent, and that’s the most terrifying thing of all.
“I said, ‘Blessed day, Nova.’”
The warmth is gone now. His dark brown eyes narrow on me as he approaches. Backed into a corner, there’s nowhere for me to go, and he captures my chin in a bruising grip.
“You will answer when I speak to you, Nova.”
“You’re…hurting me.” My voice crackles weakly, rasping over my dry throat.
He holds fast as another man, this one younger and bigger, carries a tray into the room and sets it on the desk. Eggs. Hash browns. A glass of water. A cloth napkin. And a plastic spoon.
“Wait outside, Brother Malone,” he commands.
The second man nods, his eyes downcast, and shuts the door behind him.
“We’re going to try this again. ‘Blessed day, Nova.’”
He shifts his hand to my throat. His fingers stay loose, but the threat is there.
“Who the hell…is Nova?”
The slap comes so quickly, my vision blurs as fire blooms over my cheek. My knees buckle and I slide to the floor.
“Members of the Blessed Flock are not allowed to swear, Nova,” he snaps. “We keep ourselves pure in service of the Glorious One.”
I’m hallucinating. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Heat stroke. A head injury. Whatever drug they gave me.
“My name is Grace.”
He hauls me up by my arm and shoves me against the wall. “Your old life was without purpose. Now, you are Nova, the bright light to banish all darkness and bring about the Glorious One’s return.”
“Look, asshole, I don’t know who the fuck you are?—”
His hand flies to my throat again, but this time, he squeezes hard enough I can barely breathe.
Desperate, I claw at his fingers, but the world is getting dimmer by the second. Until he suddenly lets go. Coughing and wheezing, I try to put some distance between us, but the room is so small, he’s on me again in a heartbeat. This time, he wraps his arm around my shoulders like he’s trying to comfort me.
“I should have introduced myself before. I am Prophet Zeke, the head of the Blessed Flock. Sit down. Eat, and I will explain everything.”
This guy is out of his gourd. He’s bouncing between sweet and enraged so quickly, it would leave me dizzy—if the room weren’t already spinning. He guides me into the chair. My stomach rumbles loudly, but I push the plate away.
“You kidnapped me! You drugged me. I’m not eating this.”
